There’s always tomorrow

Today was nowhere near as horrific as yesterday was. When I woke up this morning to some snotty nosed crazy peeps, not having much sleep myself, I said to B, “They are sick. We’re not going to school today.” After those words left my mouth, and I woke up a little more, I realized if I didn’t get these girls out of the house this morning, I would throw myself out a window and they would miss out on their first real day of school. Something inside me, a thing that resides in pure desperation, rose up and somehow got these girls down the stairs, into clothes and then into the car within a half hour of waking up. SNOTTY NOSE OR NOT, THEY’RE GOING. Beenie wasn’t that sick… just a really bad case of gas and the snots. The rule is no fevers, which she didn’t have, at least this morning she didn’t. Mimi was actually the one I thought was sick, but I believe now that her snotty nose was due to much tormented, exhausted weeping on her part yesterday. Ultimately I was able to scrub a truly disgusting bathroom at mi casa for one solid hour with a bleach product until it sort of shined. Then I packed up some stuff and hauled arse back to school to collect the ladies at 12 noon and trekked down to my folk’s place for the afternoon, evening and tomorrow morning. Not bad for waking up 45 minutes before I was supposed to leave the house. The girls will eventually get used to my lack of foresight. I am incapable of such things without proper sleep of at least 7ish hours per night, which I have not been getting lately due to early a.m. pee pee wake up calls. I should start going to bed at 9 p.m. just to keep up with this madness.

Grant application postmark deadline is tomorrow, September 15th, 2009.


T’was the night before preschool…

T’was the eve pre preschool
and all through the rowhouse
Furry creatures were stirring
Better not be a mouse!

The girls snoozed soundly
no diapers to wet
Without a clue what awaited them


My terrible Night Before Preschool chant was interrupted last night by the smooth, screamy stylings of one Mimi D., needing to pee and have a drink. It’s like we’re all one and a half all over again. I feel like an eighteen wheeler rammed into my head. I had a half glass of old wine with dinner, so maybe that was the culprit. A combo most likely.


Go ask Alice

Crazy chaos leaf flashback I had at the playground. Woah!

Oh spit! Me and the ladies hit their PRESCHOOL CLASS this morning to pick out cubbie holes. Beenie was busy investigating the toy section of the class and Mimi stuck close to me but was friendly to the teacher, Miss Alice. Nice lady. She immediately told the girls about two of what seem to be many rules in the classroom:

  1. the toys, especially the ones on rollers, stay on the carpeted side of the room
  2. the dolls and other things wearing clothes keep their clothes on. no nudity.

Needless to say… I LIKE! Bring on the rules. Bring on someone other than me giving these brilliant, untamed girls some guidance. I couldn’t be more pleased. The world is full of rules and everyone has different ones and now is a great time for them to learn this. The director moved them into a nicer classroom than I thought they’d be in, one with a teenie tiny little baby toilet! Perfect sized just for them. There will be 19 kids in the classroom, with three teachers. I feel as if someone just gave me a shot of adrenaline. Maybe it’s the big cup of coffee I just sucked down. Friday is D-day. 9:15-12 noon. I think we’re all gonna be okay.

In other news, I just found out about an arts grant I think I should apply for. The deadline, of course, is for September 15th, which gives me, um, four days to get it together. No different than usual, though, really. I need to come up with a proposal of sorts, outlining what I’d spend the money on… which would be childcare, methinks. I already have most of my supplies. Maybe some computer programs I could buy, but mostly I need time. Time is money. I could easily base the next ten years of my artistic life discovering the nooks and crannies of Camera Morte and all it has to offer. What a luxury.


Here’s your hat… what’s your hurry?

Nobody tells you what a pain in the arse potty training is going to be. Yes, I have two toddlers doing it at the same time, and like with every other milestone, that simple fact indicates my own work is increased at least by one million percent. If you have a singleton and sarcastically are thinking to yourself “really? ONE MILLION PERCENT?” Yes, that’s right. If you doubt me, have some twins and try it out for yourself. But consider yourself warned.

With that said, the girls and I are still plugging away. Hardly suffering. Both ladies refuse to use public restrooms, and this is where the pull-out insert to their potties comes in handy. The nasty little plastic thing, size of half a cantaloupe, fits into my backpack and I whip it out when we go to bathrooms other than our own and they squat and that’s that. Works remarkably well. I have half-complained to other mothers about them not wanting to use public restrooms and have received no sympathy — NOBODY wants to use public restrooms. At least Mimi and Beenie know who has been using their personal porta-potty. HA!

Things really changed this summer, the summer of 2009. The babies became little/big girls. No more cribs, no more naps, no more diapers. All within the span of two or three months. Mind boggling, truly. I think I am more fazed by it than them. They take it all in stride. I’ll be lucky if I can make it through next week, with one parent orientation for preschool followed by the actual preschool beginning Friday. I wonder if they pass out anti-anxiety medication at this orientation. If not, I think I have some random pills left over from the girls birth I have yet to ingest. Or maybe I’ll go into this sober, open eyed and awake, like Mimi and Beenie will have to. I will be driving them to and fro, after all. I’m so nervous and excited. Who will they become and who will I find is left of myself? Oh the mysteries abound.

It is 1:10 in the a.m. The house is sleeping. I am somehow staying up watching travel shows, crocheting my first item* (see image above) in over fifteen years. Considering starting the dishwasher, then flossing and brushing my tooths. Considering mindfulness and not wanting any part of it.

Pizza, strawberries and chips

It is 4:13 a.m. I just deleted the paragraph I had written about how I want out of Facebook, but am still mildly interested but more just annoyed. Wow. That sentence described what I wrote two minutes ago using a whole paragraph. Instant karmic editing.

I was also wondering why I am awake at this ungodly hour of the morning. Some people might look at this as an opportunity to write something real, like a book, or to work on some art. I guess I could do that. But I must be a semi-functioning parent to two almost three year old, highly energetic and cheeky girls tomorrow. So not having a good night’s sleep is bad for all. Luckily my parents are scheduled to appear tomorrow morning, at which time I will disappear to somewhere else and pretend to be childless for a few hours. My patience is boundless when I get a few moments away. Which isn’t too often these days.

What about the girls? I used to write so much about them. Now it’s all about me me me. Boring. But therapeutic.

Mimi: Potty trained? YES! This young lady is so cute. She’s been fairly easygoing of late, which I cherish, because when she’s in a mood, look out. She is constantly “going shopping” to the grocery store, with her little stroller with Zoe in it, to pick up some pizza, strawberries and chips. This is all she purchases at the grocery store. Fine with me! I love all that food. She is a classic younger sibling in many ways. She really fucks with Beenie. Takes things that are blatantly hers, engages the chase. Instantly, Beenie starts to cry huge, thick glycerin tears. Her conversation is clear and plentiful, though I wonder if anyone other than my husband and I can understand her. Probably. She does most of the talking in public situations. Mimi also says things like “I think not”, when asked if she’s peed in her bed overnight. Classy.

Beenie: Potty trained? YES! I love Beenie. She is on my last nerve this past week or so. She WANTS lots of things, and by virtue of her wanting it, fully expects to receive it. Mostly without so much as a please. Though when she really wants something, she starts a sentence with “Oh please oh please mommy”. Fantastic. Beenie is extremely defiant of late. I don’t mind it in theory, but after telling her to step away from something she has no business being near for safety and because I said so multiple times, I feel my blood pressure rise and get pissed. I realize I’ve been raising my voice, or yelling, at her a lot lately. I had to stop myself and tell her how much I love her in case she forgot. I just don’t want her to get hurt and she must listen to me. Oh the complicated relationship we already have. I love her to bits though. She is smart and intuitive and sensitive. She is the running commentary in the back seat of the car, describing all that passes by. While Mimi is enveloped by her purple blanket and sucks her thumb. Should I worry about sucking thumb? I remember getting much comfort from the act. She’ll probably be shamed out of it at some point. Maybe not by me.

Autumn has already cooled off Maryland. We had a fantastic low 70’s day with plenty of sunshine and clouds. I love the fall. Happy September!

A nod to nappy’s lists


  1. To the doo-doo head who stole one pumpkin, smashed one, and placed the third on a neighbor’s porch, you suck and, well, you suck.
  2. To horrible people everywhere: you also suck and I hope you stop hurting other people.
  3. To my darling daughters, who I love and adore with all my heart: GREAT JOB USING THE POTTY! You are saving us so much money now that you only use diapers for nighty night time. I am so impressed with your focus and intelligence approaching this potentially difficult but life changing task. I am sooo proud of you. You do not suck, but I gotta say, you two girls work me harder than I’ve ever been worked in my life.
  4. To my own lack of discipline focusing on important projects: just wait till I have 2.5 hours, three morning per week. You’re gonna get it.
  5. To Michelle Obama: where’s my dang job?
  6. To the cats in my house: shut up and stop begging for food. If you’d let the girls pet you, you’d have plenty of attention. Stop stealing my dinner off my plate. That goes for you, too, ladies. Cut it out.
  7. To my musical instruments, specifically my cute red bass guitar, sitting untouched for months in my basement, I am sorry. You deserve better. I wrote you a song, but it is hard to get downstairs to get you to accompany me. I will try harder.
  8. To the evening: I want two cocktails with no hangover.